So as background, just over a week ago, my wonderful cousin Robin walked to Valley Faire with Cera and I from our house, which would have been nice, except she’s a New Yorker, and turned a leisurely afternoon stroll into a powerwalk.
In sandals.
So my left foot has been sore since then.
Diving this past weekend didn’t help it one bit.
Which brings me to today.
Sitting in Shakespeare in Performance class, talking with my classmates, I realized that it was April 1, and realized that – since I had forgotten – it was a pretty damn good chance Cera had too.
So instead of telling her I had “a surprise” for her and then picking up a bag of dog food on the way home – as I had originally intended – I decided that I was going to tell her I had broken my foot.
Why my foot?
Well, I had been bitching like a little girl already about it, so the seed was planted, and what’s more random than that? I could have faked the pregnancy, or pretended her car had been towed, or pretended her aunt had died, but those have all been done before.
So by coincidence, I ran into Cera on campus just before noon, and – realizing that she didn’t see me walk up to her – I told her that I had hobbled, and that – after stepping on a stair wrong – I think my foot was really broken, and that I would be hobbling or hopping to the health center to get it X-Rayed.
--NOTE: not even sure if they do that, but I do have the insurance, so if they do, I could have—
So I hobbled off, or at least until I could see that she wasn’t looking, then I walked normally.
When I picked her up, I told her I had good news and bad news and bad news, the bad news and bad news being that I had broken my foot (in “the bone above my arch”) and that, unfortunately, due to a problem with medical records, they wouldn’t be able to cast it.
I even told her that the doctor at the health center (not even sure if there are actual doctors there) told me that usually broken bones like this are followed by low-level nausea, which I had also been complaining about for several days. Score one for outside info points!
Unbeknownst to me, but beknownst to my Horse AIDS-expert friend Susan, sometimes they don’t put a cast on immediately, to let swelling subside.
So Cera – easily the most loving, caring woman in the world – went into motherly mode, and helped me limp/hop/hobble into the house, helped me take off my shoe – complete with mock pain when she obeyed by whimper to “just yank the shoe off, quick, go go AHHH!!!”
She got me my homework, she rolled up a towel to elevate my foot and made me dinner. She even felt really bad when she bumped my foot as she walked by, all the while letting me watch Terminator III: Rise of the Machines, something she’d never let me do otherwise.
I even had her help me skipopble back to my car to go to school, and then had Susan text message her offering crutches, but she never checked her phone.
I sat through class, headed home (to the sounds of the Sharks winning) and wrote “April Fools !!” on my foot in black Sharpie before hopibblipping back into the house and into our bedroom, with Cera offering to pamper me more.
I told her to come see “something gross” and look at my foot, and when she did, with a look of care in her eye, she read the message.
She ended up beating me with a pillow in retaliation, and I have to take her to dinner this week, but she admits it was AWESOME.
